hold the walnut very close
rub it til its warm
picture a tree on a flowering spree
do you feel
the calm of the storm?
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
anonymous survey conducted by firedrill
here is your paper bag
here are your exits
the closest is yes
the furthest is no
ignore the question
it's only for show
and oh by the way this isn't a survey
and oh by the way this isn't a drill
here are your exits
the closest is yes
the furthest is no
ignore the question
it's only for show
and oh by the way this isn't a survey
and oh by the way this isn't a drill
Thursday, August 20, 2009
coagulate
today's poem, courtesy of get your poem on at http://readwritepoem.org/
i need two to coagulate
lest i pool on the floor
flow under the door
alert the landlady
if you don't want that i suggest you comply
supply
a corpse would do
not rancid but new
lie down and rest
it is all for the best
i need two to coagulate
lest i pool on the floor
flow under the door
alert the landlady
if you don't want that i suggest you comply
supply
a corpse would do
not rancid but new
lie down and rest
it is all for the best
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
New Year
A little early, but always a good time to start posting to the blog again!
Emily found this old poem of mine while unpacking:
Earl had an oversized heart.
He always walked slow
calm
eyes closed sometimes
feeling the warmth and the leaves caress his face as he strolled
and sighed and smiled
and sighed.
I saw Earl running:
And his face was wide in a grimace of ecstasy and the wind arranged his hair into its own world with strands meeting and entwining and departing and his ears began to bulge and elongate with blood and he took off and I lost him in the sun.
Emily found this old poem of mine while unpacking:
Earl had an oversized heart.
He always walked slow
calm
eyes closed sometimes
feeling the warmth and the leaves caress his face as he strolled
and sighed and smiled
and sighed.
I saw Earl running:
And his face was wide in a grimace of ecstasy and the wind arranged his hair into its own world with strands meeting and entwining and departing and his ears began to bulge and elongate with blood and he took off and I lost him in the sun.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Confused
Not only have I not posted (or written) in a while, I have no idea what the hell I've written this time. But hey, I'm writing again.
He moved like a bad poem,
all stops and starts
and unexpected glottals.
There was no even tempo.
I couldn't get a handle on his
metre. His running was walking,
his walking was too fast for
comprehension. His circles
were uneven ellipses.
And in the end he was in the audience
and I was on the stage
and we were all confused.
He moved like a bad poem,
all stops and starts
and unexpected glottals.
There was no even tempo.
I couldn't get a handle on his
metre. His running was walking,
his walking was too fast for
comprehension. His circles
were uneven ellipses.
And in the end he was in the audience
and I was on the stage
and we were all confused.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Tourette's synaesthesia
I had a hard time thinking of something for this week's Poetry Thursday topic of synaesthesia. So I ended up with this little ditty.
People think I have Tourette's
but really I dig the smell of flowers.
Shit
that's good